Lys Arven stood at the edge of a small hill, gripping his shepherd's staff, his eyes fixed on the meadow slowly bathed in morning light. The air was cold enough to sting his skin, but his thoughts were colder still. He couldn't forget the night before, the flash of light in the sky, the voice that spoke inside his mind, and the strange feeling that lingered ever since. He tried to dismiss it, convincing himself it was nothing but exhaustion playing tricks on him. Yet deep inside, he knew something had truly changed.
His sheep were restless that morning. Several times they darted toward the same direction, as if seeing something far away, then circled back, breathing heavily. Lys glanced toward the place where the falling star had once appeared, but the sky was clear now, only leaving behind a cold shade of blue. He lowered his gaze, suppressing the unease that pulsed faintly in his chest, like a soft vibration matching the rhythm of his heartbeat. He didn't know what it was, only that his body felt different more alert, more aware of everything around him.
Then the voice came again, soft but clear.Lys... listen to me.
He froze. The staff in his hand trembled slightly. He turned his head, searching for the source, but no one was there. Only mist and the slow sway of the grass.Who are you? he thought, without moving his lips.
My name is Aetherion. The voice echoed from within, in a way words could never explain. You saw me that night. I am part of the light that fell. And now, a part of me lives within you.
Lys swallowed hard, staring blankly at the ground. "This makes no sense," he whispered. "I'm not dreaming anymore, am I?"
No. And you must be careful. That light was seen by many eyes. They will come searching for it. And they will find you.
The words made Lys's breath hitch. He lowered his eyes, staring at the damp earth. "Who will come?"
Too many who wish to possess the light, Lys Arven. Yet none of them truly understand what they seek.
Lys didn't reply. He exhaled slowly and tried to ignore the whisper. He returned to the village near noon, but the air there felt different. People gathered around the central well, their faces tense, their voices low yet hurried. When Lys passed by, some of them stopped talking and only stared. He pretended not to notice and continued toward his small house at the edge of the village. But his steps halted when a deep voice called from behind.
"Lys!"
He turned. Elder Taren was walking briskly toward him, his wrinkled face stern, his eyes sharp. "Where were you last night?"
Lys tried to smile calmly. "Out herding, as usual. Why?"
"You didn't see that light?"
"Light?" Lys feigned confusion. "I only saw lightning to the south."
Several villagers behind Taren exchanged whispers. One of them pointed toward the hill where Lys often herded his flock. A gray haired woman murmured, "His sheep were wild this morning. Maybe they saw something."
Taren's gaze hardened. "Some people found scorched earth in your field. Do you know what happened there?"
Lys shook his head slowly. "I don't know, sir. Maybe lightning?"
No one spoke. The silence was thick. Finally, Taren sighed. "You're a good boy, Lys. But be careful. The world isn't kind to things it can't explain. I don't want trouble coming to this village." He patted Lys on the shoulder before walking away, followed by wary, fearful eyes.
That evening, Lys sat behind his house, staring at the yellowing fields. From afar, he could still see the patch of blackened ground where the light had struck, a scorched ring that looked unnatural even from a distance. The air around it shimmered faintly, as if still holding the memory of heat. He sighed, trying to calm his thoughts. But Aetherion's voice returned.Don't go there, Lys. The earth still remembers its fire.
"You like telling me what to do," he muttered softly.
I'm protecting you.
"Protecting me from what?"
From humans. From their fear.
Lys fell silent. He knew Aetherion was right. The people of Verdan were kind, but they frightened easily by things they couldn't understand. He would've felt the same in their place. But now, he was the thing they wouldn't understand.
Night fell slowly. The mist thinned, and the air turned colder. Inside his small home, Lys lit the hearth and sat before the flickering flame. The outside world had gone quiet only wind and creaking wood filled the silence. On the table lay a small white crystal he had found that night. It pulsed faintly, as if breathing. He reached out and held it tightly in his palm.
That is part of me, Aetherion said softly. And now, part of you.
Lys stared at it, confused. "What really happened that night?"
The light in the sky wasn't a falling star. It was a fragment of something that should have stayed sealed. I fell with that fragment. And when you touched it, we became one.
"And now?"
Now your fate has changed. That light isn't a simple secret, Lys. The world will come for it.
The words made his stomach twist. He wanted to ignore everything, but deep down he knew it was impossible. He gazed at the crystal for a long time before finally placing it into a small cloth pouch and slipping it beneath his pillow.
As night deepened, the wind carried faint murmurs, from nowhere and everywhere at once. The sheep in the pen behind his house grew restless again, bleating softly as if sensing something unseen. Lys stepped outside, scanning the quiet darkness. The sky was clear, but in the distance beyond the trees on the northern ridge he saw a faint glow. Not lightning, but the flicker of torches, swaying slowly.
He held his breath. "What is that...?"
Ignore it for now, Aetherion said. It's not time to act yet.
"Not time?" Lys frowned. "You said they would come."
And they will. But tonight they only watch. I can feel them from afar.
Lys looked over his valley, but it suddenly felt foreign. The small houses, the wooden fences, even the sound of crickets seemed to belong to another world. He realized that in a single night, this place no longer felt safe.
He went back inside, closed the window, and sat near the hearth. His eyes refused to rest. Every small noise outside made him tense. The image of those torch lights would not leave his mind. He imagined the kind of soldiers Aetherion spoke of men who might come to capture him, or worse.
Aetherion was silent the entire night, but his presence lingered, heavy and watching. Lys could feel it sitting quietly in his mind, aware of every passing thought. He tried to sleep, but his mind wouldn't stop turning. He thought of Elder Taren, his neighbors, his sheep. What if all this brought disaster upon them? What if fear turned the village against him?
The next morning, the mist was truly gone. The air in the valley was clear, yet everything felt strangely muted. There were no children running along the paths, no laughter from women hanging laundry. People seemed to avoid his house. Lys pretended not to notice, but every hidden glance behind a shutter felt like a knife.
He went out to herd as usual, though his thoughts were far away. Sitting on the hill, Aetherion's voice spoke again, softer this time.Do you know what will happen, Lys?
"I know they're afraid."
They're not just afraid. They'll try to extinguish anything that makes them feel small. That is what humans do.
Lys sighed. "Then what should I do?"
Be ready. When the time comes, I will call you.
He didn't understand what that meant, but the words pressed heavy in his chest. He looked over the valley once more, memorizing every corner he loved. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to look at it peacefully.
That night, the mist truly vanished from Verdan Valley. The air was sharp and still, and the sky stretched wide, full of cold, glittering stars. Lys did not sleep. He sat by the window, staring north toward where the faint torchlight had once glowed. His heart beat fast for reasons he couldn't name.
And deep within his mind, Aetherion's voice came again, not gentle this time, but firm.Prepare yourself, Lys. I can feel their footsteps in the shadows. They are getting closer.
Lys didn't answer. He only drew a long breath, gazing at his slumbering village. For some reason, the night felt colder than usual, and the fire in his hearth seemed smaller than it should have been.